Combatting Fear

by Sandy Vaile

  “You could just let us go. You don’t need to tell Boiler you saw us.” God, I hope Tony and Micah have the situation at the house under control, or I’m walking into a shit fight.

  With any luck, Tony would overpower Dave before he knew what hit him.

  Rowan fell behind, so Dave scooped him up and tucked him under his arm like a football. The little boy squealed.

  Neve ground her teeth. “Please don’t do this,” she said.

  “It doesn’t matter what I want to do. If I go back there without the kid, Boiler will shoot me without a second thought.” He shoved her ahead of him.

  “Not if you don’t go back to him. Micah has contacts. He’ll give you the whole ten million dollars if you let Rowan go. I know he will, and then you can retire anywhere you want.”

  “You’re ignorant if you think the Mutts won’t track me down. Now shut up and get moving.”

  “With that much money, he will never find you.”

  He cuffed her across the back of the head. “Shut the hell up!”

  She trudged forwards, sneaking a glance back to see Rowan’s little legs dangling from under Dave’s arm, his head bobbing in time with the man’s gait.

  He was just a child. Who knew what kind of long-term scars he would have after this?

  As she rounded the corner of the shed—the very place she’d started from and had hoped never to see again—Neve’s stomach lurched into her throat. She staggered forward, but Dave tugged her T-shirt to stop her.

  Micah raised his head, and his blank eyes were a stark contrast to his flushed cheeks. He stared as though he wasn’t really seeing her, or Dave, or Rowan. He was hunched over Chelsea, shirtless, and they were both covered in blood. Neve choked on a scream, her eyes searching for Micah’s injury.

  “Mummy!” Rowan squirmed and sobbed.

  “Boiler?” Dave’s deep voice rumbled through the air as he called to his mate. It didn’t sound like just a question though. He was worried about what had happened in his absence.

  “Down here, mate.” Boiler’s call came from near the house.

  Dave dragged Neve away from Micah. Her desperate gaze held his empty one until bushes came between them. She didn’t cry out for him, though. There wasn’t any point. Obviously something had gone very wrong with their plan.

  None of them would be going home today. Or any day.

  They rounded the rainwater tank and stepped onto a patch of sparse lawn by the house. Boiler stood over a limp body. It was slim with withered arms and a full head of dark hair.

  “Tony!” This time Neve broke from Dave’s restraint and flung herself over her father. “Daddy.” Her vision blurred as tears squeezed out.

  Dave was relaying the story of finding her to Boiler, but she tuned them out. With her face pressed onto her father’s chest, she felt warmth and heard his strong heartbeat. Oh, Dad, thank goodness you’re alive. “I love you,” she whispered in his ear.

  “Yeah, yeah, touching.” Boiler grabbed Neve’s arm and yanked her to her feet. “You’re coming with me. Stick the kid in the ute, Dave, and get him to the city clubhouse.”

  This was bad. They were going to separate them. She glanced around for a makeshift weapon. Rowan was still limp under Dave’s arm, tears streaming down his screwed-up face. The poor little guy had probably been so traumatised that he had no fight left.

  The men were both armed and bigger than her. She wasn’t afraid of their size, but she wasn’t foolish enough to think she could successfully take them down before one got a shot off. Her best bet was to wait until she was alone with Boiler and then try to incapacitate him. Once she was free, she could help Rowan.

  There wasn’t any point hoping that Micah would come to her aid. He appeared to be bleeding out beside Chelsea. And Tony was down for the count. It was all up to her now.

  Boiler didn’t bother dragging her; he pushed her ahead of him with the barrel of his shotgun. At least he couldn’t see her working on the belt around her wrists. They moved towards the parked cars, her gaze following Rowan to Dave’s twin-cab ute.

  Boiler held the passenger door of a black sedan open for Neve. After a moment’s hesitation, she slid into the seat.

  “Don’t get any stupid ideas,” he growled. “This gun would make a hell of a mess of your pretty little skull.”

  She shivered. The layers of leather around her wrists were unaligned now, and it made them loose enough for her to wriggle her wrists. There was the wail of sirens in the distance. Help would be here soon.

  Boiler moved around to the driver’s door. “I’ll see you there, Dave,” he called.

  This was her opportunity to leap from the car. The scrub was only metres away, and she could be lost from view in seconds . . .but now was no time for running and hiding. Instead, she turned so her now free hands gripped the car seat, and struck out with one foot to hit the side of Boiler’s leg as it entered the car. He yelped and fell backwards, butt first onto the ground. A car door slammed. The engine of Dave’s ute started, and Rowan was inside.

  Boiler was struggling to his feet.

  Under the power of an almighty adrenaline surge, Neve launched herself the rest of the way out of the driver’s door, latching both hands onto the gun barrel and aiming the crown of her head at Boiler’s gut.

  They hit the dust in a tangle of limbs and curses. With her legs wrapped around his, she kept him off balance. Briefly she had the advantage, and landed a blow to his face with her elbow. The big man cried out, and she snatched the gun away from him.

  This was no thug catching her by surprise in a dark carpark. This time she was going to get the upper hand and keep it. For Rowan’s sake.

  Chapter 36

  The sound of a struggle brought Micah back to his senses. He ought to stay with Chelsea, but there was nothing he could do for her and the sirens were close now. There was another scream from near the house.

  Neve needed him.

  With a last glance at his wife’s ashen face, he swallowed all of the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him, and got to his feet. His chest and arms were slick with blood, but forcing the thought from his mind, he wiped his hands on his jeans and moved towards the sound of a scuffle in the car park.

  Neve was wrestling a biker twice her size.

  Boiler.

  But if Neve was here, where was Rowan?

  Micah sprinted towards the fray and leapt at Boiler, his foot connecting with the biker’s ribs, followed by a satisfying yelp. Boiler broke away from Neve, and Micah took the opportunity to reach for her. They clasped hands, but Boiler grabbed his ankle and whipped him onto his back. The long, dark barrels of a shotgun came towards him, but he kicked it away with his free foot.

  The boom resounded through his body and left his ears ringing. Everyone held their breaths for a moment, waiting for the blooming pain of the pellets.

  No pain.

  But then Neve’s brows crumpled, her eyes focused somewhere far away.

  No! Not Neve too.

  A desperate shriek flew from her open mouth.

  Micah scrambled to his feet to help her, but he couldn’t see the wound. His gaze followed hers to Dave’s ute, where a spider web of cracked glass in the back window was mirrored by blood splatter on the inside of the windscreen. Dave slumped forward onto the wheel. The engine revved, and the vehicle started to move.

  Rowan’s pale face pressed against the passenger window, eyes wide.

  He lurched towards his son, and something solid struck the side of his head.

  Micah collapsed to his knees, gaze still on Rowan’s terrified face as the ute disappeared over the lip of the car park, headed for the dam.

  No, he wasn’t going to let this happen. He brought his arm up to deflect Boiler’s next blow, and latched onto the cold metal barrel of the shotgun. Boiler’s finger reached for the trigger.

  If he had to swap his life for his son’s, he’d do it.

  In a heartbeat.

  • • •

  Neve h
eard the men wrestling beside her, but she didn’t spare them a glance. Micah was strong enough and motivated enough to handle Boiler. It was Rowan who had to be saved. She left behind the man she loved, maybe for the last time.

  Her feet soared across the car park, arms pumping, heart in her throat, eyes on the wheel ruts in the soft soil at the edge. Without pausing, she leapt after the out-of-control vehicle, her feet sliding and tripping on the rough terrain of the steep descent.

  A gunshot echoed around the valley, and she lost her footing.

  Micah must have lost his battle too.

  Stones bit into her flesh as she tumbled over tufts of grass and stopped in the bristles of a low shrub. The ute’s left tire rolled over a sturdy bush and veered right. It narrowly missed a gum tree and then nose-dived into the murky water of the dam.

  “No!”

  Spray washed over the bonnet and it slowed, floated momentarily, and then the engine spluttered and died. Neve scrambled to untangle herself from the bush as the weight of the ute’s engine took it down nose first.

  Rowan’s high-pitched scream ripped through her soul. His contorted face appeared at the back window, red with anguish as he climbed to the top of the cab to avoid the rush of cold, silted water.

  “Open the window, Rowan!” she screamed.

  He reached for the door, but snatched his hand back from the rising water. The ute was sinking fast.

  Neve reached for an old fence post, but it was soft with termite damage. Then she saw a chunk of slate bigger than her fist. It would have to do. She tumbled the last few metres and launched into the murky water. Thick mud sucked at her legs and claimed one shoe, but she forced her way through the water, using her arms to propel her.

  The water level in the ute’s cab was halfway up the windows now. Endless, terrified screams came from within.

  No one will die in my place again. I won’t let it happen. “I’m coming, Carlos.”

  She reached the cab and smashed the rock against the back window. The existing crack from the bullet barely widened, but the rock shattered. Give me a break!

  Fighting wet fabric and a slippery handle, she unsheathed the knife from its leg scabbard. The handle was solid. She raised her arm and brought it down with force against the window. A web of fractures formed. One more time and the shattered glass bowed inward.

  “Move away from the window, Rowan.”

  Brown rivulets leaked in faster now around the windows. Neve didn’t wait for Rowan to move; there wasn’t time. Kneeling in the sloshing tray, she raised her arm again and hit the glass as hard as she could. Splintered glass sliced her hand as the window gave way. She had punched a hole through it, but the damned sheet of glass held together.

  Water rushed through the opening, and Rowan thrashed at the deluge with his tiny fists. Neve pulled the glass from the frame, cast it aside, and lunged through the opening, but Rowan had backed to the far side. She couldn’t reach him.

  As the cab fully submerged, she took a breath and plunged inside, her arms extended. Razorlike fragments scoured her stomach as she wriggled forward, clasping in desperation, but unable to see anything through the silt. The filthy water rushed up her nose and pressed against her clenched lips like gritty earthworms trying to get in.

  It’s been too long!

  The air in her lungs faded; Carlos was drowning centimetres away from her all over again. But this time no one was going to pull her to safety. She was all alone, and she wouldn’t fail him.

  • • •

  Micah and Boiler lay in the dirt, panting. Apparently, they were evenly matched when it came to wrestling. Every time Micah made a try to follow the ute and Neve, Boiler dragged him back for another hiding. But he’d given as good as he got, and this was no time to give up. Even now, Boiler’s gaze shifted to the shotgun a few metres away.

  He could only trust that Neve was strong enough to save Rowan.

  Sirens screamed nearby. If he could last just a few more minutes, help would come.

  They both scrambled for the weapon, but it was too far. Instead, Micah latched on to Boiler’s leg. A boot connected with his jaw, but he didn’t let go. And then the sirens were upon them. Boiler twisted and rolled. As two police cars skidded to a halt, he crouched low and ran into the scrub.

  Micah stood to greet the officers, hands on his head, like he’d seen in the movies.

  An officer with a blonde ponytail leapt from the car, pistol drawn. “Get face down on the ground and put your hands behind your back,” she said.

  “I need to find my son. He was in a car that went over the edge there.” He pointed.

  “Get down on the ground now!” A male officer pointed his weapon over the bonnet of the car.

  Micah obeyed. Dirt clung to his lips and scraped his cheek as he lay face down with an officer’s foot pressed into the small of his back. He could barely raise his head high enough to spit blood beside him. The male officer patted him down, and then cold handcuffs snapped around his wrists. Red and blue lights flashed across the landscape and, through the eye that wasn’t pressed against the ground, he watched the female snap a plastic glove on and carry the gun to the boot of the patrol car.

  “You can sit up now.”

  Micah rolled onto his side and sat. “These aren’t necessary.” He wriggled his wrists but stopped as the metal bit into them. “I’m the one who called for an ambulance.”

  “Whose weapon is that?” his guard queried.

  “Boiler’s. Look, he might still be here. We’re in danger.”

  “I’m well aware that the Mutts own this property, but the area is being secured by other officers. If Steven Boil is here, we’ll find him.”

  “None of this matters. I just need to make sure Rowan is safe.” Micah struggled to his feet.

  “Sit. Down. You will remain in custody until I figure out what’s going on here. Now what’s your name?”

  “Micah Kincaid. Has anyone been down the hill? Rowan is down there in a car.”

  “Another officer is attending to that vehicle, so you don’t need to worry about it.”

  “Don’t need to worry?” Rage swept through his veins, pounding in his ears so that it dulled the sounds around him. “I’m not answering any more questions until I see my son.”

  The officer pursed his lips. “I suggest you cooperate or I’ll put you in the back of the car and you can explain your story to the magistrate in the morning. Do you understand?”

  “Look, I know you’re just doing your job, but I need to find Neve and Rowan. Can you please just go and check? I promise I’ll stay here.” Dust stung his eyes and they watered. His fists clenched.

  “Another officer is attending to the vehicle in the dam, but as soon as you answer a few questions, I’ll get more information for you, okay? Now, can you tell me what has gone on here today?”

  Micah wasn’t listening anymore. He was focused on the paramedic who disappeared towards the dam, carrying a first aid kit. Towards Rowan and Neve. It was as though he was listening to his own body through a stethoscope: blood rushing, heart thumping furiously against protesting ribs, air rasping in and out of his lungs.

  “Mr. Kincaid, did you hear me? I need to know how many people are on the property and why you’re here.”

  “No! Look, my son was in a car that went over the edge and crashed. I need to know what happened to him.”

  He jumped to his feet and made a run for it. To hell with playing by the rules.

  Chapter 37

  Neve’s diaphragm spasmed as it fought to draw breath. She would have to pull out of the ute to breathe, and Rowan would drown.

  Not again. I can’t survive this again.

  At last her hand closed around a thin, slippery limb, and she pulled it towards her. She struggled to back out of the cab and push towards the surface, her chest convulsing in protest by the time she broke through. Oh, glorious air.

  Rowan sputtered beside her. It was the most fabulous sound she’d ever heard, but he wasn’t
out of danger yet. Water poured from his tiny mouth, and then his face screwed up and he burst into tears.

  Using just her legs to propel them, she floated on her back, holding Rowan on her chest, his head safely above the surface. Carlos’s face had been blue and unresponsive, but Rowan’s was flushed, his eyes blinking. He would live.

  Her foot hit the bottom and she turned onto her side, gouging sludge with one hand to haul them onto the bank. Still half submerged, she lay in the putrid mud, clutching Rowan like the treasure he was. Sediment from the dam was up her nose and in her mouth. It was all she could smell and taste, and no amount of spitting freed her from it.

  “It’s all right, Ro,” she whispered in his ear. “You’re okay now.”

  A murmur of voices from above made them both look up to see a tall blue-clad figure at the top of the hill. Rowan trembled in her arms, and she instinctively pushed him behind her, but the figure coalesced into a uniformed man picking his way down the slope.

  “It’s okay, the police are here,” she told Rowan.

  The officer’s hand was on his holstered pistol. “Ma’am,” he called, “I need you to put the child down and put your hands on your head.”

  “He nearly drowned and he’s frightened. I can’t let him go,” she implored.

  The officer stopped a few metres away. “Step away from the child and raise your hands now. An ambulance officer will attend to the boy.”

  It wasn’t a question, because Neve didn’t have a choice. Everyone needed to play their part, so she kissed Rowan’s head and lifted him to his feet. He whimpered and shook his head against her chest.

  A woman wearing green overalls and carrying a red kit appeared at the top of the hill.

  “Rowan, the ambulance lady needs to make sure you’re not hurt. Remember that you swallowed a lot of water, and I’m going to be worried until I’m sure you’re okay.”

  The paramedic stopped a safe distance behind the cop and said, “Your mummy needs to talk to the policeman.” She smiled and held a hand out to Rowan.

  He looked between the paramedic and Neve.

  “I’ll be right here where you can see me,” Neve promised.